


Hopeful

by Searece



Series: Memories and Times [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Playful Prowl, Prowl playing with younglings, non-descriptive violence, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Praxian emperor watches over his people while their city is destroyed above them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is other than a partial AU. It is basically set during the destruction of Praxus, sort of. Anyway, enjoy!

Prowl vented out softly as he wondered when it would end. Surely the bombing would end soon? Maybe they were fortunate that the main refuge area of Praxus' temple rested so far underground... and maybe they were not. He and his present company-those that were Praxians like him and those that were not-would likely be the only survivors of this horrifying tragedy. From his perch on the spiral crystal tower above everything, Prowl glanced down at the sparklings, younglings, and adult Cybertronians fitfully trying to rest on the hard berths that had hardly ever been used by the residents of the temple that housed them.

Optics softening, Prowl felt tears well up inside of him, and his frame seemed to rattle in sorrow. A sigh escaped his vents the more he thought about the destruction occurring above them all. He jumped and very nearly swore as the underground hiding place rattled and shook with the force of a huge bomb as it landed. It terrified him, but he had to be brave for his people.

A soft, terrified cry made him look down, and he saw a youngling cling to its carrier in fear. Prowl jumped onto the next crystal tower down, then continued to do so until he reached the ground. Some of the Cybertronians looked up at him in desperate questioning. With a sigh, he looked around at his despairing people before practically gliding over to the youngling he had noticed crying. Prowl kneeled next to the youngling and its carrier, cooing softly while reaching to the broken family.

They reached for him; and he manipulated his wings against them, letting them weep against him. Prowl's EM field flickered around them as he let them feel his emotions through it: sorrow about the loss of so many of his people, anger at whoever was killing his people, and fear about whether or not they would last through the attack.

Gently, Prowl pressed his lipplates to the femme's forehelm, and then pressing his lipplates to the youngling's helm. Offering them comfort in such a way made him feel better, even if nothing about the situation was made better by the actions.

The two fearful beings he had kissed and those around him felt marginally better by his actions, too, as Prowl could tell. They truly believed that, as long as Prowl survived, they also had a chance. Prowl himself, however, didn't have that assurance. The sparkling and femme curled closer to him, burying their faces into his chest armor.

Softly, he spoke, "My people, we will get through this tragedy. I will make certain it is so." They were all startled when he spoke so suddenly, though his words reassured them.

"Dearly beloved prince," began an elderly femme, "thank you for caring for us for so long. We know you don't have to. Some of the Praxian emperors of the past have been careless with us. You have not, even as young as you truly are."

A tear escaped from Prowl's optics and he sobbed softly. "I thank thee for thy kind words. Even so, though, I had merely been doing my duty to the best of my abilities, as my predecessors should have done."

"But they didn't do as you have done," said the femme.

A loud chirp brought Prowl's attention back to the sparkling that was resting against him, and he cooed back to it, earning a giggle of laughter as he flapped his doorwings in a silly manner.

Chuckles brought his attention back to the other adults in the area, causing his plating to rattle in embarrassment. He gave a small, sheepish smile. He couldn't help it though; whenever he was around sparklings, his full attention was given to them and he stopped paying attention to nearly anything else-except what could harm the little one. Sparklings did seem to be the future of Cybertron with the way the war was going; because at the current rate, their precious Allspark would be destroyed.

Sadness enveloped him, cradling his spark in a way similar that he would cradle a crying sparkling--much like the one currently in his arms.

Ducking his head, Prowl laved his glossa against the sparkling's helm, gently pulling the child closer to him. A tiny squeak told him that the sparkling was surprised at the attention, causing him to smile at the adorable sound. He continued to lave his glossa against the child's helm, gaining squeals and laughs as he also lightly dragged his fingers across the little being's sides.

Around him, he could hear the soft whispers of his people as they watched him play with the sparkling, whose carrier had shifted away from them to watch them play together. Prowl smiled as he invited some of the other sparklings to come to play as well.

"Come now, my little sparklings; play with me!" he exclaimed happily, only partially pretending as several sparklings ran over to him, looking at him expectantly, the boldest of which asked:

"What games can we play, emperor? What are we going to play?"

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, optics dancing, "Would all of you feel up to a game of Chase?"

At hearing the excited squeals and cheers the younglings gave in response, Prowl gave a soft growl, lurching forward as the game began, doorwings flaring in an mock-aggressive display, "You can't escape me, my pretty younglings, for I'll catch you!"

The younglings squealed and straightway started running in different directions, leaving Prowl to chase after his chosen target--a femme youngling of red and yellow coloring named Firestar. Optics dilating in anticipation, he crouched lowly, pressing himself low to the ground in an imitation of an organic predator he had studied once while off world.

He silently stalked after Firestar, determined to capture the youngling... and tickle her to submission!

A positively devious grin came upon his face at the thought.

And, unknown to him, all the other adults breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the sight of their ruler chasing after sparklings in happy play, laughter ringing and echoing off the walls of the huge cavern.


	2. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of a little Praxian Prince's past, on one of his creation day celebrations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs long before the first one and this one has Prowl as a sparkling/youngling. For kkcliffy (on FF), who requested it a while ago. I thought for sure I’d posted this, considering I got this done some time ago, but I guess I didn’t. :/ I also meant to post this yesterday but forgot.
> 
> Also, I do take requests; though as you can see, they may take a while.

            Rather contently, Prowl drooled on his pillow, uncaring that he would have dried oral fluid on his face.  He was temporarily unaware of the significance of the day, but then his carrier was rubbing his tiny sensory panels and waking him.

            “Wake up, my spriteling; don’t you remember what today is?” murmured his carrier softly, gaining a muffled purr from him at the sound of her voice.

            His optics shuttered several times as he attempted to wake up.  One of his optics was squished between his cheek and the pillow, and he rolled over to unsquish it, only to let out a pathetic little cry as he got an opticful of sunlight for his efforts.  When his carrier’s servo blocked the mean brightness, he looked up at her with a tired but grateful smile.

            She let out a soft chuckle, “Now, now Prowl, the sunlight is not that bad, is it?”

            He nodded rapidly, sitting up so she could lower her servo. His tiny sensory panels fluttered rapidly as he remembered what the day was.  “It’s my creation day!” Prowl chirped, quickly hugging his carrier.

            “That it is, little one!” Soon his carrier was tickling him terribly, and he was laughing his little spark out.

            “Carrier, Carrier, stop!” he pleaded, squirming under her skilled touches.  With another laugh, she stopped soon enough.

            “We need to get you ready for today, sweetling,” she said, much to his delight.  Soon he clung to her, laughing as she picked up. “You’re getting big; soon I won’t be able to pick you up anymore.

            The mechling pouted, clinging to his carrier stubbornly.  As Prowl was carried into the washroom to get cleaned, his bright optics looked around curiously though he knew every inch of his rooms.

            Since Prowl actually enjoyed washing, bath time and polishing his little frame didn’t take very long.

            Once he was presentable, he held his carrier’s servo with his own as he proudly walked to the ballroom soon to be full of mechs and femmes attending in his honor.  He couldn’t wait to meet them all!  When the first of the mecha walked into the room, the youngling hid behind his carrier shyly.

             “It’s okay,” she whispered to him, stroking his little sensory panels softly, getting Prowl to step out from behind his carrier’s leg.

            They and Prowl’s sire greeted the guests, not very long passing before the Polyhexian nobles arrived.  There was a sparkling about Prowl’s age in the small company, and the Praxian prince’s young processors went into overdrive as he took in the other sparkling’s appearance.

            Typical Polyhexian frame, many upgrades available to it; plain black and white, though tasteful, coloring; stubby developing, yet sure to be elegant, helm finials; cheery white visor accompanied by a huge grin; tiny clawed servos, one clutching his carrier’s; double jointed legs; and pedes that possessed multiple digits, which would evidently provide for astounding balance in the future but caused only trouble now.  As such, the youngling was clutching rather tightly to his creators.

            “Nobles of the House of Silence, Stunfire and Fireflash, with their _adorable_ creation, Jazz.”

            Not liking being put on display, the mentioned mechling squeaked back at the announcer, who resisted a chuckle.

            Prowl’s sensory panels perked up and fluttered at the bold display, something he’d never do.  The mechling turned back to look at him, however, and Prowl squeaked in response, immediately hiding behind his carrier’s leg.

            “Hi!” brightly greeted Jazz as he shakily bowed to the Praxian mechling, “Happy Creation Day, Lord Prowl!”  He held out his servo, opening it to reveal a slightly crumpled blue box.

            Prowl looked up to his Carrier, wondering whether or not he should take it.

            “Go ahead,” said his Carrier.

            Tentatively Prowl stepped forward, his little sensory panels quivering, and took the gift from the Polyhexian.  “Thank you,” he quietly said as he inspected the box from all angles before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.  He gasped in surprise as he saw a tiny crystal growing in a water-filled container.

            “I heard that Praxians like crystals, so I thought I’d give you a Polyhexian crystal! Ours grow underwater,” chirped the Polyhexian.

            “It’s so pretty, thank you.” Prowl flushed a bit as he smiled at the shorter mechling.

            “No need to thank me,” blushed the smaller as he scuffed one of his little pedes on the floor, “I was just doing what everybody else is.”

            “Alright, come now, Jazz, we need to let the others give their gifts too,” Stunfire murmured to his mechling.  Said mechling pouted but nodded and with a final glance at Prowl, waved goodbye as he trotted off with his creators.

            “Can we meet him again, carrier?” begged the small Prowl as he peered up at his carrier pleadingly.

            “Well,” whispered the amused ruler of Praxus, “I don’t see why not.  We’ll have to find out if Jazz’s creators find that acceptable, though.”

            Prowl beamed a wide, happy smile, and went back to receiving his creation-day gifts with his carrier.  “Thank you so much, carrier!”


End file.
